


Tenderness to Cruelty

by Verabird



Category: French History RPF, Historical RPF, Political RPF- France 19th c.
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Brief allusions to Gisquet/Jules-Ernest and Gisquet/Casimir, Caning, Dom/sub Undertones, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Tears, Wall Sex, crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8077576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/pseuds/Verabird
Summary: Sometimes Gisquet needs a break from delivering punishments so that he may receive, submit, and obey. Luckily Chabouillé is there to indulge him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firestorm717](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firestorm717/gifts), [Kainosite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kainosite/gifts), [jehane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehane/gifts).



“Are they gone?”

“Yes, stop looking over your shoulder.” Chabouillé prevented Gisquet’s next complaint from escaping his anxious lips by smashing their mouths together, a kiss that was mostly teeth and fire, his hands ran lewdly up and down the Prefect’s form. He rested a hand in the crook of Gisquet’s waist and pulled him closer. It was Gisquet who broke the kiss first, mostly to take a deep breath as his lungs were starved for air.

“One can never be too careful,” He said breathlessly. His hand came to rest over Chabouillé’s and he tapped his fingers, then gently he prised it away so he could slide it down towards his thigh. Chabouillé watched the movement and smiled, allowing his palm to press against Gisquet’s outer thigh, fingers curled against his hip, he leaned in close to kiss the man again this time slower, but still not gentle.

He drew back after a moment and leaned in to Gisquet’s ear, noticing from this angle the pulse fluttering at his throat and the flush running up his neck. 

“What would they say if they saw us like this? I am sure Messieurs Nay, Devaux or even Pinel would not be too scandalised.”

Before Gisquet could answer Chabouillé had circled a hand around the Prefect’s throat, a loose hold, but his intent clear nonetheless. His other hand tightened on Gisquet’s thigh. “I could probably still lift you, hold you against the wall while I take you. You’d like that, balanced in my arms with nowhere to fall, I could fill you so easily that way.” 

Gisquet moaned and felt his knees weaken, his whole body trembled slightly at the sensation of Chabouillé’s breath on his neck, his hand still groping him, those words -- God those words!

“Get on with it,” Gisquet grunted out with difficulty just as Chabouillé began to assault the exposed side of his neck with his teeth and tongue. He left red marks that would be dangerously close to visibility above a cravat. Gisquet might have to play the recluse for a few days once Chabouillé was done with him.

Chabouillé drew back and smiled before parting Gisquet’s waistcoat and shirt with his fingers, exposing more skin. He traced that bare chest, watching it rise and fall in rapid succession as Gisquet’s breathing quickened.

“So eager.” Chabouillé clicked his tongue. “Perhaps I should bend you over your own desk instead. Take you and leave you just as quickly, get it over with, would that be preferable?”

Gisquet licked his lips nervously as he regarded Chabouillé’s bright eyes and the cruel curl of his lip. In the dim light of just the low burning fire the Secretaire was truly striking, a noble profile framed with gentle blonde waves shot with silver.

Gisquet reached down with his hand and found the hardness pressing at the front of Chabouillé’s trousers and cupped it firmly. He pressed into that heat with his palm and gently squeezed his fingers. Chabouillé raised an eyebrow, but was not phased, for he took Gisquet firmly by the back of the neck and applied pressure until Gisquet was sliding to the floor, his weak knees buckling beneath him.

His hand curled into a fist as his fingers clutched at Gisquet’s hair. He forced him to press his cheek to his trousers, feeling the hardness against his face, Gisquet’s subsequent moan throbbing through him.

“Is this what you crave, Henri? When you're fucking one of your little secretaries is this what you really dream of?”

Gisquet whimpered, his lips brushing against Chabouillé’s cock still trapped beneath layers of material. He mumbled something incoherent, a desperate plea. 

“You desire to be taken and controlled, but oh you hide it so well when you play with your toys. What would they think if they knew you wished to feel your own whip on your skin instead of theirs?”

“Please,” Gisquet whined, the material against his face warm and damp. “Enough of these words - I cannot last.”

“But you must.”

Chabouillé took a step back causing Gisquet to fall forward onto the carpet, propped up now on his forearm and knees. Gisquet moaned as Chabouillé walked away from him and he almost fell low enough to crawl towards the man. Instead he waited and watched as Chabouillé made his way to the cabinet and searched through the implements inside.

“Do you have a preference?” He called nonchalantly over his shoulder.

“Anything, just hurry up.” Gisquet licked his dry lips, he felt ashamed at the lust in his voice, at how easy he had fallen to his knees. He had betrayed his position yet he longed for more.

“Such insolence. You would not let one of your pets get away with these words, why should I afford you privileges you would not give to them? No, it is time to learn some manners Monsieur le Prefect.”

Chabouillé ran a finger down the shining wood of the cabinet, lost in thought for a moment. Eventually he withdrew a thin cane, a pale bamboo, slender and vicious.

Gisquet could feel his lip trembling and his tongue had turned to stone. He knew he should protest, but as he watched Chabouillé handle the wood in his hands he felt his body betray him.

Chabouillé regarded him, still kneeling on the floor then motioned with a flick of the wrist. “Your clothes are superfluous to my intentions. Kindly remove them.”

Gisquet did not hesitate. In fact he removed his clothes with such speed and force that Chabouillé openly laughed at him.

“Surely it has not been so long?”

“Long enough,” Gisquet replied, now naked, he leaned back on his heels. “Now, if you please, I would appreciate haste.”

“I'm sure you would.” Chabouillé moved closer to Gisquet and rested a hand on top of his head and then curled it under his chin. He forced the Prefect’s jaw up sharply and held his chin between his fingers, twisting Gisquet’s face from side to side, examining it as if purchasing a horse at market. “But you see, I am a man of patience, and I would prefer to take my time.”

His fingers pressed into Gisquet’s cheeks and then slid to his parted mouth where they pulled at his bottom lip. Gisquet allowed Chabouillé to push his fingers past his lips and explore his mouth, digging fingertips sharply into the inside of his cheeks, almost brushing the back of his throat, invading him entirely. Gisquet had learned to control his gag reflex many years ago under the tutorship of another powerful man.

“You have such beautiful restraint Henri, it is quite a wonder to watch. You are wasted on those boys.”

Chabouillé withdrew his fingers and wiped them on Gisquet’s cheek. Gisquet coughed lightly and raised his head. “You do me wrong if you think I do not enjoy it either way.”

“Of course,” Chabouillé said, turning his attention to the cane resting in his grip. “I have seen that first hand, with Monsieur Nay especially, the boy dotes on you in a way that is quite extraordinary. I have no doubt you enjoy giving your punishments. Still, it feels satisfying to give in for once doesn’t it? To be punished in turn without knowing or caring for a reason?”

Gisquet bowed his head and lowered his eyes with the greatest of respect. “When you indulge me in this way it is an honour to serve. It is what I learned first before I knew how to command, it is within me whether I wish to turn from it or not.”

Chabouillé smiled gently and cradled Gisquet’s face with his palm. His fingers were soft this time. “Stand for me and then turn around.”

Gisquet did not think he could support his trembling legs for long, but he rose with dignity, searching first in Chabouillé’s eyes for reassurance before turning. 

“Remarkable.” Chabouillé muttered to himself, noting the way the firelight shadowed the curves and crevices of Gisquet’s back, highlighting muscles and shining across pale skin. He ran a cursory finger down one of Gisquet’s shoulder blades relishing in the shiver the action produced. “You hid this from me for too long.”

“You found it eventually,” Gisquet said softly, not daring to look over his shoulder.

“It was still rude to conceal it.”

“I can only offer apologies.”

Chabouillé sighed and took hold of Gisquet’s shoulders, turning him slowly until they were facing. He cupped Gisquet’s face in his hand and drew him in for a deep kiss. The parting caused an ache in the pit of Gisquet’s stomach. Chabouillé’s features had softened, but his eyes burned cruelly bright. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course, always.”

Gisquet swallowed. “Then, yes, I do.”

Chabouillé’s smile would have frozen the hearts of lesser men, but Gisquet faced it with his head respectfully bowed and his eyes lidded. Chabouillé gripped the cane tighter in his hand and then stepped back so that he could hold it out, the tip resting under Gisquet’s chin.

“This will hurt.”

“I should hope so.”

“If it gets too much you need only beg for mercy, understand?” Gisquet nodded. “Very good. I may not grant it, but you know that.”

Chabouillé rested the cane over Gisquet’s shoulder and applied pressure, waiting for Gisquet to sink once more to his knees. With the patience and care of a man calming a horse he used the cane to manipulate Gisquet until the Prefect was bent over on his hand and knees, arse shamefully in the air, face pressed to the carpet.

Chabouillé tapped the cane lightly over exposed skin. “Keep this raised, do not relax until I say so, and this-” He tapped the cane against the back of Gisquet’s neck. “Keep this down. Understand?”

Gisquet nodded, but this was not enough for Chabouillé who knelt beside Gisquet’s face with alarming speed and wrapped his fist in his hair. He wrenched it back. “Speak up.”

“Y-yes, yes I understand,” Gisquet stuttered hastily, his eyes watering. Chabouillé’s hand did not let go. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

Chabouillé smiled and released Gisquet’s hair with a thrust downwards, forcing his face back into the carpet with little care. He stood once more and placed the cane lengthways across Gisquet’s thighs, choosing the spot for his first swing.

“Count for me,” He said, barely leaving a moment’s breath before raising the cane. It swished through the air with a sickening crack and landed full force in a neat horizontal line across the Prefect’s thighs. Gisquet shunted forward, feeling the force of the impact first, and then the pain blossoming in a thick heat across his skin. He let out a cry and then pressed his lips together, ashamed of his weakness.

“Have you forgotten my command so quickly?”

“One!” Gisquet piped up quickly before Chabouillé could chastise him. He hated to disappoint. “One, Monsiuer.”

“Do not forget again,” Chabouillé said, voice laced with a cold threat. “Now, let us continue.”

Chabouillé swiped the cane in quick succession, leaving a moment between each stroke for Gisquet to gasp out a number. He landed the thin cane across Gisquet’s thighs until they were covered in slashes of red. Then he turned his attention to Gisquet’s raised arse and here he swung harder, leaving sharp lines of red and the early signs of bruising. Gisquet reached ten without too much complaint, but after this the numbers came slower and with more difficulty. At twenty, Chabouillé paused, waiting patiently, listening to Gisquet’s gasps in the otherwise silent room. 

“I have yet to even break the skin.”

Gisquet’s lips were pressed to the carpet, his breaths coming quickly, wracking through a body quivering in pain and the resulting pleasure. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed.

“And I have yet to beg for mercy,” He groaned, voice heavy. “Why have you stopped?”

Chabouillé raised an eyebrow. He considered for a moment before renewing his strokes with vigour. He landed each stroke perfectly across the last, not allowing reprieve, barely leaving enough time for Gisquet to count the number. Gisquet’s voice was thick, the man obviously in great pain, yet his lips parted into moans as each cane stroke was delivered, and his body trembled with something more than agony.

Chabouillé waited until the sobs had diminished somewhat, then he raised the cane and without hesitation brought it down on the sensitive exposed soles of Gisquet’s upturned feet. Gisquet screamed at this fresh pain, his forearm slipping out from under him as he collapsed onto the carpet. He flinched and attempted to right himself. 

Chabouillé knelt beside him and pressed his hand to the back of Gisquet’s neck. The touch was gentle yet commanding as he bid Gisquet to rise onto his knees and face him.

“Enough of this pitiful moaning,” He said, noting the tears on Gisquet’s cheeks. He held the cane up to Gisquet’s mouth, pressing the wood insistently to his lips. “Hold this.”

Gisquet dutifully opened his mouth and took the cane between his teeth, clenching his jaw he found a comfortable way to breathe through his nose. 

Chabouillé stood and moved over to the desk where he turned and leaned against it, facing Gisquet who was perfectly still. “Crawl to me,” Chabouillé commanded, voice clear.

Gisquet bit down on the wood between his teeth and swallowed what remaining dignity he had left. By the time he reached the desk Chabouillé had undone his trousers and was slowly stroking his cock into full hardness. Gisquet didn’t need to be instructed. He knelt up, opened his mouth so that the cane fell to the floor and kissed the tip of Chabouillé’s cock before sliding all the way down his length. He closed his eyes, getting used to the size and feel of Chabouillé in his mouth before he shifted forward slightly on his knees and began sucking in earnest. 

Chabouillé breathed slowly, letting out the smallest of moans as Gisquet slid his tongue up his length, applying pressure at the tip, and then swallowing around his cock with desperation. His hand came to rest in Gisquet’s hair and then without warning he pulled sharply. Gisquet slipped off his cock, mouth parted, precome and saliva smeared obscenely on his face. He could not bring himself to speak so he looked up quizzically. 

“Not yet,” Chabouillé said, his fist still clenched round Gisquet’s hair, he pulled until the man was on his feet.

Gisquet whimpered, all but collapsing against Chabouillé. Chabouillé gripped tight to his upper arms and dragged him away from the desk and towards the wall. He put one hand under one of Gisquet’s thighs and the other supported his waist, then as if he weighed little more than a feather Chabouillé lifted him and smacked him hard against the wall. Before Gisquet could even think about struggling or gaining purchase with his feet, Chabouillé had positioned his wet and slick cock beneath Gisquet’s entrance. He allowed the Prefect to slide down the wall just a little way until he was pressing against him and then he let his hands fall free entirely, Gisquet’s mouth had prepared Chabouillé to an extent, but it was not quite enough to stop the burning sensation that filled him to the brim. 

Gisquet took in a deep breath and bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth, his eyes still squeezed shut. Chabouillé rested both his hands on Gisquet’s waist and held him in place. “Easy now,” He said softly. “Deep breaths. Relax.” 

Chabouillé waited until Gisquet had composed himself and then slammed him back against the wall, the impact causing him to slip further down onto Chabouillé’s cock. Chabouillé picked up his thrusts, pushing insistently into Gisquet, paying little heed to the Prefect’s high pitched moans. Gisquet felt like the floor had vanished and yet still he remained in situ, able to think of nothing but Chabouillé’s cock deep inside him, the thrusts penetrating him deeper at every movement, his secretary’s face so close to his, his breath warm on his neck. 

Chabouillé noted the anguish in Gisquet’s expression and renewed his thrusts, tilting his hips and pressing his full body against Gisquet’s. His lips brushed against Gisquet’s neck, and it was in this position that he came, shuddering as he thrust upwards and pressing himself close into Gisquet. He held tight to Gisquet’s waist until he was finished riding the sudden waves of pleasure and then carefully lowered him to the ground. Gisquet’s feet hit the floor, but it was as if he’d forgotten how to stand. He threatened to topple, and so Chabouillé held him close, fingers gripping tightly to his shoulders.

“Henri?” Chabouillé questioned with a whisper, his face still pressed close to Gisquet’s neck.

“I-I am-..” Gisquet struggled to speak between his breaths. He trembled in Chabouillé’s arms, leaning closer to that strong warm body.

“Shhh, you do not have to speak.”

“I do, I...André, please…” Gisquet’s eyes were glazed, unfocused, but they were pointedly looking down where his own cock stood weeping and desperate between this thighs. He looked back up at Chabouillé, well aware of his pathetic expression and stance. “Would you?”

“Ah, yes of course.” Chabouillé reached between Gisquet’s thighs and gripped his cock with a rough fist. The sudden sensation of touch was all too much too soon and Gisquet’s precarious balance shifted. He fell into Chabouillé, holding tight to his chest. Chabouillé loosened his fist and turned to slower thrusts that Gisquet could cope with, guiding him gently to a climax that he toppled into with the greatest relief. “There now. Better?”

Gisquet nodded and pressed his face into the crook of Chabouillé’s shoulder. Chabouillé’s hands snaked round Gisquet until they pressed into his lower back, holding him in a firm embrace. He kissed Gisquet’s temple and waited until the Prefect had calmed in his arms. 

“You did well.”

“You could have been harder,” Gisquet murmured, his fingers still struggling to grip onto anything. 

“Perhaps next time.”

“Do not leave it as long this time.”

Chabouillé laughed and finally broke off the embrace, He guided Gisquet, who moved as if in a walking sleep, and lowered him into the soft trappings of the chair behind the desk.

“So soon after we finish and you are already back to making demands.” He brushed his hand across Gisquet’s back and began massaging his shoulders. “But as you wish, I will ensure we have more privacy to take advantage of in the future.”

Gisquet rolled his neck back into Chabouillé’s touch, relishing the alarming switch to tenderness from cruelty. “The marks, are they visible?”

“Oh yes, quite. You will have to be careful.”

Gisquet sighed. “I had hoped to avoid them.”

“Then you would do best to avoid me entirely, for I do not think I could touch you without leaving a mark on you to remember me by.”

Gisquet broke a small smile. “Thank you, I am most grateful.”

Chabouillé took Gisquet’s chin in his fingers and turned his face towards him. “It is always a pleasure,” He said as he leaned in to kiss his Prefect, tasting sweet obedience on those lips.

  
  



End file.
